


I wonder if our paths will ever cross again...

by missingcrowdsof1000s



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Anya refuses to online date, Bonding, Dmitry has a cold, F/M, Fall Vibes, Flirting, Fluff, Franzuskaya bolonka, I ain’t Russian, Is this enough tags?, I’m still new at this help, Love at first call?, PSLs allll dayyy, Phone Calls, Pooka the patient, Russian dog breed, Slow Burn, chatting, dog owner Dmitry, don’t ask me to pronounce it, i think that’s it?, new puppy Pooka, so does Dmitry, vet clinic, veterinarian Anya, voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingcrowdsof1000s/pseuds/missingcrowdsof1000s
Summary: Short, multi-chapter (like, probably three or four chapters max, let’s not get ahead of ourselves — I wanna make sure I can actually finish this thing!), modern-day AU where Anya is a young, perpetually single veterinarian who ends up connecting with a certain charming puppy owner over the phone (because he’s sick and doesn’t wanna come into the clinic for his appointment — mildly inspired by covid for the sake of this plot point, but I absolutely refused to write a blatant covid story. He’s just a considerate dude with a cold or something, okay? No global pandemics in this AU, I promise.).
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry & Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway), Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter is told from Anya’s perspective, but not sure about subsequent chapters just yet. (Also, idk what breed Pooka’s supposed to be, so I just picked a cute little Russian one!)

“Good morning Lily!” Anya chirped, the chimes twinkling as the front door swung shut behind her.

“Good morning, Dr. Romanov!” her clinic manager replied, briefly pausing whatever computer task was previously commanding her attention to glance up and smile as Anya walked into the cozy vet clinic. Anya’s eyes were immediately drawn to the brilliant diamond brooch pinned to Lily’s blouse, glinting in the early morning sunlight — a new gift from her secret suitor, no doubt. One of these days, Anya was going to catch her boss in a weak moment and finally figure out this mystery man’s identity, mark her words.

It had been more than a year since she graduated, but Anya still wasn’t completely used to being referred to as ‘Doctor’, especially given that everyone else at her clinic all had at least a few years on her. She’d been a particularly motivated student throughout high school and college, and graduating as the youngest new veterinarian in her class last year had been one of her proudest accomplishments. Still, it didn’t completely normalize the fact that she was a certified medical professional before she could legally rent a car.

“Lily, I keep telling you, call me Anya!” Anya wrinkled her nose as she glanced down at the name etched in white thread on her blue scrub top. ‘Dr. Romanov’ feels so...pretentious.” She’d always despised the inherent hierarchy found in vet clinics, and had made it a priority to dispel the misguided belief that she should be treated any differently just because she was one of the ‘doctors.’ The way she saw it, everyone had worked hard in their respective paths to arrive at this clinic, and each person contributed to its overall operation, so she was just lucky to be among them.

“We’ve got a new puppy appointment for you this morning, _Anya_ ,” Lily informed her, chuckling lightly while simultaneously clicking furiously on the mouse as she toggled between various different windows open on her computer screen.

“Oh?” This caught Anya’s attention. She not-so-secretly adored the classic ‘first puppy appointment’ — getting the chance to help a brand new pet owner navigate the anticipated trials and tribulations of raising an unconditionally loving, but also unconditionally energetic, new family member — and ever since she’d started at Petersburg Pet Hospital after graduation, she’d slowly begun requesting them. Starting her workday with puppy breath and wagging tails never hurt, either.

“Yep, and it’s a funky-sounding breed, too...” Lily squinted as she leaned closer to her screen to read the breed name listed on the digital file, over-enunciating the collection of letters in front of her. “I’ve never heard of it...Fran-zuh-skuh-yah bowl-on-kuh.”

A flash of recognition crossed Anya’s face as she heard the words, despite Lily’s absolute butchering of the toy breed’s traditional Russian moniker. The Franzuskaya bolonka was an adorable, petite, fluffy white dog — and incredibly uncommon outside of its country of origin. It also happened to be the breed she and her sisters and brother grew up loving.

“Wow,” she muttered, a mix of disbelief and nostalgia coloring her voice. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these since I was a little girl.”

Lily was back to her earlier task of coordinating the day’s schedule for the other doctors and didn’t notice Anya’s reaction to this new information. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing he’s your first patient of the day,” she replied, swiftly peeling a sticky note off the pad sitting just beside her keyboard and scribbling a note to the other receptionist, Marfa, who would likely be arriving for work any moment now, pumpkin spice latte in tow.

A ringing phone interrupted Lily’s rapid scrawl, and Anya took the call as her opportunity to head to her desk in the doctors’ office at the back of the building.

As she set down her shoulder bag and pulled her travel mug of coffee from its side pocket, she glanced up at the rich red wood of her degree frame hanging on the wall above her desk. Just as she did every morning before her first appointment, Anya’s piercing blue eyes settled on the parchment elegantly mounted in front of her:

_Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova_

_Doctor of Veterinary Medicine_

She’d unintentionally started this habit on her very first day as a vet last year, reading the words stamped on her degree to remind herself that it was all actually happening, and not just in her dreams. That first morning, she’d ended up helping a dog who’d been coughing a lot, and the owner was so pleased with the vet visit that he’d requested Anya’s name be included on his bill so that he would remember her, “one of the best he’s worked with at the clinic.”

Afterwards, she’d quietly retreated to the bathroom for a moment alone to shed some tears of relief and residual pent-up nerves, before regaining her composure and continuing on with the workday. Every morning since, she likes to steal a glance at the framed degree as a tangible reminder of how she’d felt after such a positive interaction on her very first day, and use that inspiration to propel herself into whatever tasks lay ahead on the schedule. _It’s been working pretty well so far, and today will be no different_ , she reasoned. Taking a steadying breath, Anya smoothed her scrub top and settled into her office chair. She pulled out her iPhone, planning to check her email in the few minutes she had to kill before the Russian puppy was set to arrive at the clinic.

A text from her sister Maria greeted her on the screen when she unlocked the phone:

Hey so did you sign up for Bumble yet?? 🐝

Followed shortly by another:

Don’t you wanna find someone to go on cozy fall coffee dates with?? 😍👀🍁🍂

Anya let out an audible groan — Maria was her biggest cheerleader when it came to Anya’s (nonexistent) love life, bless her soul, and texts such as these were par for the course with her — but after a summer of watching her three loved-up older sisters enjoy various outdoor excursions and picnics and ice cream pit stops with their respective boyfriends...Well, let’s just say Anya didn’t have the heart to remind Maria that she _did_ want that — she just didn’t want to endure the burden of distilling her personality down into a couple of photos and prompts on a profile and wade through countless over-filtered, unnatural poses of complete strangers in order to actually _have_ it. No thanks.

Instead, she just left her well-intentioned sister on read for the time being and turned off her phone. _And besides_ , Anya thought, as she registered the 8:30am glaring back at her on her watch, _I should really get to work_. The new puppy and his owner were probably already checked in by Lily or Marfa and waiting for her in the exam room.

“Dr. Roman— sorry, _Anya_ , Pooka’s owner has a bit of an odd request for you,” Lily materialized in the doorway of the makeshift office space Anya shared with the two other vets.

Anya spun around exuberantly in her desk chair — she’d insisted on one with wheels for this very reason — and beamed up at Lily with a goofy, childish grin on her face. Rolling chairs were one of life’s simple joys, she always argued, and the exhilarating rush she felt after a quick spin was exactly what she needed to avoid slipping into a well of self-pity after reading Maria’s text. Her manager just chuckled and shook her head, her stiff red curls barely registering the movement.

“Pooka’s owner — sorry, I should say, Pooka is your first patient — Pooka’s owner wants to know if it’s okay if you do the appointment over the phone,” Lily fingered her brooch as she relayed this inquiry to Anya. “Apparently he’s sick? He doesn’t wanna come into the building and risk infecting everyone.”

Anya’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are we even allowed to do that?” She slid her bare arms into the sleeves of her crisp white coat while awaiting Lily’s response.

Lily shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I can just send Marfa out with some gloves and a mask to make him feel better when she grabs the dog from his car and then you can do the appointment in one of the exam rooms like normal. Just cuddle with the puppy for a few minutes and then—”

Anya’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll perform a physical exam, yes.” She finished buttoning up the coat.

Lily grinned and patted Anya on the shoulder. “Of course. And then call the owner’s cell number and give him the famous ‘Dr. Romanov new puppy spiel.’ ” She winked.

Anya opened her mouth to protest again, but Lily cut her off. “And the owner’s name is Mr. Sudayev,” she called over her shoulder, already on her way back to the front desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partially inspired by Zach Adkins’s now-deleted tweet (why, Zach??) about taking his dog to the vet and wishing he’d said more to the cute vet tech who was working there. Also, I’m a vet and like 60% of this is just me projecting 😂 🤷🏽♀️ Plus, covid life means doing all our appointments via telephone these days, and the romantic in me got distracted thinking about the meet-cute potential of it all, and thus, this story was born! 😜 Stay tuned for the first Dimya call next chapter! (Also shoutout to msaudreyanne for reading my first draft! 💕)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get these two crazy kids on the phone together, shall we?

“Hi, this is Anya. I’m calling from inside the Petersburg Pet Hospital and I’ve got your dog Pooka here with me.”

“Just Anya?” asked the inquisitive, albeit a little stuffed up, male voice on the other end of the line. _He sounds young,_ Anya thought. “Are you the doctor?”

“Uh, yes? Yes, yes I am, indeed. At your service,” Anya said hurriedly. “My last name is actually Romanov — it’s just that I have this thing about not making people call me Dr. Romanov because it sounds hoity toity and I’m trying really hard not to perpetuate a hierarchical structure within the workplace and—”

She stopped. She was clearly babbling. Why was she babbling?

_Pull it together, Romanov_ , she mumbled to herself as a reminder. _You’re a professional. You’ve done this hundreds of times before. You’re good at this stuff._

“Good at what stuff? Talking in run-on sentences over the phone?” Anya could hear the smirk in the man’s voice — no, it was definitely a guy, not yet a ‘man’ — who, up until this moment, she’d forgotten was still listening. _Shit._

“Oh right, um. Never mind...Uh, let’s start over, shall we?” Anya inhaled lightly. She could still save this. “What brings you into our clinic with Pooka today?”

“Well, I’m not actually in the clinic, remember? It’s just my dog who’s in there,” he pointed out, his retort punctuated by a sneeze.

_Right._ Anya buried her face in the palm of the free hand not holding the telephone receiver. Pooka let out a helpful bark from his carrier on the exam table, as if reminding Anya of his presence.

“Yes, sorry. My apologies,” Anya replied with forced congeniality. _What the fuck is wrong with me?,_ she thought, internally this time. “Why did you bring _Pooka_ to Petersburg Pet Hospital today, Mr. Sudayev?”

“It’s Dmitry. No one goes by Mr. Sudayev, except...for my...father...” he trailed off.

“Okay, well, _Dmitry_ , I see here that this is Pooka’s very first vet visit,” she commented as her eyes skimmed the file open on the table in front of her. _There we go_ , she thought. Her brain was finally starting to operate normally again. “How old is the little guy?” She grinned at Pooka while awaiting his owner’s response.

“He’s eight weeks tomorrow,” Dmitry replied proudly, before erupting into a momentary coughing fit. “I just took him home last night.” He sniffled.

Anya balanced the phone between her ear and left shoulder, leaving both of her hands free to unlatch the white puppy’s cage door and reach in to retrieve him. He immediately nuzzled up against Anya’s right cheek once she’d gathered him into her arms.

“That’s great to hear!” she grinned, finally feeling more comfortable now that she’d steered the conversation back into the familiar territory of a regular new puppy appointment. “Is he your first dog?” Pooka’s warm tongue licked her chin and Anya’s heart swelled immediately.

Dmitry paused for a moment before answering. “Yes...yes he is. But I’ve been planning for him for years now and I’ve looked up all the puppy stuff and I talked to my friend who had dogs as a kid and I’ve started a vet bill savings account and I was gonna ask about when I should be getting him neutered and I also wanted to talk about pet insurance...” he stopped, seemingly to catch his breath before assuring her, “The point is, I’m very prepared...I promise.”

Anya just laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not my job to burst the bubble of brand new dog owners. I’m just glad to hear it sounds like you’ve been doing your research — you know, a lot of people have the best intentions in mind when getting a young dog, only to end up being totally overwhelmed within 48 hours of bringing their new friend home. Puppies may be tiny, but they’re a big handful.”

“Oh I’m definitely still overwhelmed,” he interjected. “There’s no doubt about that.”

_At least he’s honest_ , Anya thought. _That’s...refreshing_. What she was telling Dmitry was the truth — she’d lost count of the number of previously proud clients who would then desperately call the clinic a few days or weeks after their appointment, begging for behavior training tips and insights after their new puppy — “We got her to surprise our daughter,” they’d quickly explained to Anya — had gnawed on every accessible inch of baseboards in their home, or left so many puddles of urine on the carpet that they couldn’t walk more than a few paces without inadvertently ending up with a damp sock, or stayed up barking for so many consecutive hours that the owners were more sleep-deprived than they’d been during finals week in their university years. It was nice to hear an owner acknowledge his limitations right out of the gate.

Dmitry continued on, “Last night, he’d literally been in my apartment for two hours, tops, and he somehow managed to chew off all the plastic caps on the doorstops. I found like three of them in a pile of drool on the kitchen floor.” Anya could envision him shaking his head in amused disbelief, soft, semi-short hair mirroring the motion ever so slightly, half-grin on his face...

_Woah — where did THAT come from? You literally have no idea what he looks like_ , Anya scolded herself. _Or know anything about his life aside from the fact he seems to have very specific taste in dog breeds. Plus, he’s a client_. But still...there was no denying the fact that Anya inexplicably found herself drawn to this faceless stranger and wanting to keep talking to him.

Before she could stop herself, and momentarily throwing professionalism out the window, Anya blurted, “I have to ask — why this breed?”

Dmitry barked out a short laugh, sounding mock offended. “Hey! What’s wrong with it?”

“No, nothing, it’s just that I’ve spent years in vet clinics and this is the very first time I’ve ever seen someone bring in a Franzuskaya bolonka,” she explained quickly. “I only even know about them because my siblings and I were obsessed with those dogs as kids, and my grandmother’s neighbor bred them back in Russia.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that. I DID have to search pretty far and wide to find a Franzuskaya bolonka breeder over here,” Dmitry admitted.

“Wait, so how did you find out about them in the first place?” Anya asked. She still couldn’t quite get over the coincidence.

“Well, that’s a long story,” he chuckled. Anya urged him on with her silence. “Yeah, okay, so ages ago, there was this big fancy dog show happening in my hometown — I actually grew up in Russia, in St. Petersburg — and I remember desperately wanting to go watch the finals of the competition...you know, the part where all the handlers bring their best dog out into the centre ring and the judges give them one final look before declaring the grand prize winner?”

At his words, Anya’s mind flashed back to a similar day from her own childhood, when she’d accompanied her grandmother’s neighbor and her herd of Franzuskaya bolonkas to the show happening that weekend. She’d begged and pleaded to be brought along, arguing at the bright young age of eight that she’d be a major help wrangling all the animals at the show, when in reality she’d just wanted to be able to pretend they were hers for a day. Anya’s adoration for dogs was one of her earliest-solidified personality traits, but her father’s severe allergies really threw a wrench in her plans of collecting some canine companions of her own. Some would say she did the next best thing and became a vet instead, now spending her working hours surrounded by pets.

Anya emerged from her reminiscence to realize that Dmitry was still recounting his own tale. “...My father thought it was a complete waste of time, but you try explaining to a poor, lonely 10-year-old boy that his father couldn’t afford a ticket to let him spend his Saturday afternoon staring at all these majestic, incredible dogs he’d never be able to own.”

Anya’s heart ached at the thought of young boy so intensely craving the friendship that can only be supplied by the unconditional love that exists between child and dog. She knew the feeling all too well.

“So, needless to say, I went anyways. I snuck in through the back entrance to the arena that hot June afternoon, dodging security guards left and right, until I was sure I’d lost them in the crowd of spectators,” Dmitry explained. “I finally reached the edge of the fencing, and I remember looking across the ring at all these handlers with their immaculate dogs, and then suddenly seeing this little girl amongst the sea of adults. She held her chin high, looking so proud and serene, with her tiny white dog on a thin red leash. A perfect pair. If it weren’t for the two foot height difference between the girl and the other handlers, they would have fit right in.”

Anya’s pulse quickened.

“And then during the part where everyone walks their dog around the ring, they pretty much came right up to me, and I couldn’t stop staring at them. I spent the rest of the show just watching this girl and her dog, perfectly in sync. I was mesmerized.”

Anya stopped breathing. _I remember that boy_ , she thought, bewildered. _How can that be?_

“...When I came back home that night, I told my father I would do whatever it took to have one of those dogs of my own one day. I’m not completely sure why, I think maybe 10-year-old me just wanted to capture the exhilaration of that moment, and getting the same dog seemed like the most realistic way to do it,” Dmitry paused thoughtfully. His tone took on a twinge of melancholy as he elaborated, “My father had listened to my excitement and then just smiled at me sadly. ‘I know you will, Dima,’ he’d told me.”

“Dima?” Anya was pleasantly surprised by the tenderness of this guy’s childhood nickname. She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, “Yeah, that’s what he called me. There isn’t a day I don’t miss him.”

“Oh...”

“It’s okay, really. It’s been years at this point.”

Anya was about to employ one of her standard vet school-approved empathy statements, as she was trained to do with all her clients whenever they presented tragic news, but something about this client, Dmitry, felt different. More personal. She could do better than her usual canned condolences.

“It sounds like he had a pretty big impact on you,” she finally settled on.

“Thank you. He definitely did,” Dmitry agreed. “I learned so much from him, it’s like he’s always in my head, guiding the decisions that I make even now. It’s kind of how I keep him alive in my memory.” Anya envisioned him shrugging as he said this. The mood over the phone shifted, and Anya, ever the awkward turtle that she was, launched into another abrupt line of questioning.

“Petersburg...is that...is that why you picked this vet clinic for Pooka?” Anya couldn’t help but wonder.

“How lame would I sound if I said ‘yes’?” Dmitry asked. Anya smiled to herself.

“Not lame at all,” she reassured him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She imagined his eyebrows raising to the top of his forehead. “A secret? Sounds tantalizing...” he replied. _Was he...flirting?_ Anya thought — or maybe hoped. Nevermind.

“That’s the exact same reason I chose to work here,” she revealed. “Well, okay, that makes it sound like I’m this impulsive vet with no regard for career development — I’m not. It’s more like everything about starting out as in this profession was so massively intimidating that it was nice to have at least one thing — the name of the clinic — be familiar. It reminded me of my grandmother.”

“You know St. Petersburg, too?” Dmitry asked, surprised.

“Yeah, that’s where she lived,” she explained to him. “The grandkids — some combination of my sisters and my brother and I — would go visit her every summer break. I always tried to be included on that manifesto,” she confessed. “Nana is definitely my favorite relative...She’s in Paris now.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit Paris!” Dmitry exclaimed. “It sounds like a dream.”

“It’s spectacular,” Anya agreed. “My favorite place in the whole entire city is this bridge...”

...

________________________

Dmitry chuckled to himself as he hung up the phone, the old device almost burning his dimpled cheek thanks to overheating in the late September sunlight. He really should’ve gotten out of the car and walked around or something while they were talking. Instead, he’d stayed in his car the entire call, entranced by the voice of the captivating young woman — _she only called you to talk about Pooka_ , he reminded himself — on the other end.

He placed his phone back in the cupholder beside the gearshift and reclined the driver’s seat, closing his eyes and lacing his hands behind his head as he lay back and waited for the receptionist to call him to process payment for the appointment. _I think I’m gonna like your new vet, Pooka_ , he said aloud in the car with a grin on his face. No matter that his intended audience was several metres away, being tended to in the vet clinic by the girl he already couldn’t stop thinking about.

________________________

“What’d you do, conduct a federal investigation in there?” Lily asked, as Anya visibly struggled to push open the exam room door with her left hand while cradling Pooka in her right arm and clutching her clipboard under her left armpit.

“Huh?” Anya responded absentmindedly. “Oh, you mean my appointment? Yeah, I’m just gonna go give him his vaccines quick and then he should be good to be billed out. Tell Dmitry that Pooka should come back in four weeks for his next round of shots.”

She finally looked up and made eye contact with Lily, surprised by the smirk forming on her boss’s face. “What?”

“Sweetheart, you were in the room for almost an hour,” Lily gestured to the clock mounted on the wall above the filing cabinet. _Oh shit_ , Anya panicked. _She’s totally right_. She groaned. _Great — the day’s barely started and I’m already behind_. “Thankfully, your nine o’clock called to cancel right after you went in,” Lily continued.

Anya’s rapidly rising anxiety quickly simmered back down at this fortunate information. Then her mind went to Dmitry’s soft chuckle and his Russian upbringing and his affection for his late father and his adorably nervous new dog-dad energy and she realized exactly how easily she’d just spent the past hour on the phone with him.

Lily and Marfa, who’d just returned to the reception area from the storage room, exchanged a knowing glance while a flustered Anya untangled her thoughts.

“That blush compliments your scrub top,” Marfa said nonchalantly, attempting to conceal her shit-eating grin by raising a bag of cat dental treats in front of her face. Lily cracked up beside her.

Anya turned her back to her coworkers and immediately pulled out her phone to check her complexion in the front-facing camera, ignoring yet another text from Maria. Sure enough, her cheeks and the entire upper half of her neck were now sporting a very obvious, splotchy red flush. _Dammit_ , she thought. Her overly-sensitive skin never failed to betray her.

Ignoring the snickers of Lily and Marfa, Anya speed-walked back to the safety of her office. Thank goodness she was the only vet in the clinic on Mondays and could ride out the momentary embarrassment in private until her complexion returned to its normal tone.

Figuring she might as well torture herself further, Anya unlocked her phone and sank down into the leather comfort of her rolling desk chair.

She already didn’t like the look of Maria’s latest message trace:

Since you’re clearly ignoring me...

_Um, I’m at work_ , Anya thought, eyes skimming over the next text:

...I took the liberty of setting you up on a blind date this weekend 😘

Anya winced, terrified to open the follow-up string of messages:

And until you actually show evidence of making an effort to meet newpeople yourself 🤨, you lose the right to refuse any of my set-ups 😏

She opened her mouth to retort, before remembering she wasn’t actually conversing with her meddling sister in real time and Maria therefore wouldn’t actually be able to see her expression.

His name is Gleb and you’re meeting him in the park on Saturday at 4pm. And for the love of god, please take your hair out of a ponytail and actually put on something cute and not covered in cat hair for once 😉

Anya tried to get excited about the prospect of meeting this Gleb guy — a blind date was a little more authentic than a dating app, at least, and her sister _did_ have good taste — but her heart just wasn’t in it. Not after the phone call she’d just experienced.

_He’s a client. He was calling you because you’re literally being paid to talk to him about his dog_ , she tried to remind herself, but her stubborn heart had already packed a bag and boarded the ‘let’s-crush-on-the-emotionally-mature-stranger-who-happens-to-own-your-favorite-Russian-dog-breed-and-who-may-or-may-not-have-first-seen-you-years-ago-in-a-dog-show-as-a-child’ train, and it was speeding off down the tracks.

_This is hugely problematic_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flirty phone calls are just way too much fun to write, okay? Apologies for getting a tad bit carried away with this chapter (‘a tad bit,’ she says, over 2900 words later) — Dimya bonding basically consumed the entire thing, so I’m gonna have to push the arrival of most of the other tagged characters to later in this story. Also, somehow this fic veered into dog show territory? Wasn’t really planning for that to happen considering I’ve never attended such an event, and know very little about them, but what can you do? 🤷🏽♀️ Next chapter: Anya begrudgingly meets up with Gleb while Dmitry chills with Pooka.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In addition to our two favorite leads, say hello to Vlad (finally!) and Maria (for real this time, not just via text) in this chapter! Oh, and Gleb... 😑

“So....what are you planning to wear?” Maria asked.

Anya sighed and flipped over onto her back on her sister’s queen-sized bed. She stared at the ridged white ceiling above her. “You’ve already texted me three times to ask me that. And you have a crack in your ceiling.”

“Yeah, and now you’ve failed to give me a real answer for the fourth time in a row,” Maria responded. “You’re meeting Gleb in less than two hours, so it’s officially crunch time.” She ignored her sister’s comment about her apartment’s structural integrity.

Anya stretched out her arm to grab the book that was sitting open on Maria’s nightstand — “The Perfection Point”, the title read — and flipped it open to a random page.

“Sorry, can’t, I’m really engrossed in this book about...the highest dunk height in basketball?...I just can’t seem to put it down, it’s so captivating — you know, I think I’m gonna have to cancel the blind date.”

Maria marched over to the bed from where she’d been perusing her own walk-in closet, undoubtedly with the hopes of assembling a suitably stylish fall date ensemble for Anya, and snatched the pristine paperback from her hands.

“Now you’re just being deliberately obtuse,” her sister huffed. She lifted up her memory foam pillow and tucked the book safely underneath, pointedly removing it from Anya’s sight.

Anya smirked. “Maybe.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “And Konstantin’s really into sports records, so I’m just trying to educate myself, okay?” she said defensively, before returning to her closet. With an adjusted tone, she addressed Anya again without bothering to turn around. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve gone out with anyone...or, you know, flirted with anyone, or just generally been in the presence of any even remotely eligible guys—”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the vet industry has been transitioning into becoming a predominantly-female profession. Blame society,” Anya argued, before transitioning to a moment of honesty. It _was_ her favorite sister she was talking to, after all. “I always thought it’d be better and meeting new people would be easier once I started my job, but imagine my surprise when I learned that there’s not even a single male working at my clinic.”

“Just because they’re not single doesn’t mean they can’t still help you,” Maria countered, turning back around to face the bed. “Most normal guys have other normal guy friends, you know. Guys that you could maybe, possibly, I dunno, ask to be introduced to?” She raised her right eyebrow pointedly and looked at Anya.

“No, you don’t understand,” Anya arched her neck and pressed the top of her head into the lilac-colored duvet to make upside-down eye contact with her sister while still remaining sprawled on her back. “My entire clinic is female. Literally. All of my coworkers are women.” She let out a sigh. “That’s just the way things are now.”

Maria, to her credit, looked at least momentarily sympathetic. “Damn, that’s rough,” she agreed, before visibly brightening. “Which is _exactly_ why you should be thanking me for arranging your date this afternoon. No need for any of this circumstantial moping, cause we’ve gotta get you ready to meet Gle-bbbb!” Maria pronounced the name of her boyfriend’s former calculus classmate in a singsongy voice and clapped her hands together excitedly. Anya remained notably less enthused.

Anya had debated telling her sister about Dmitry. It was now five days since that fated phone call, the vet appointment that had morphed into an in-depth, personal, hourlong conversation, and Anya would be kidding herself and everyone around her if she said she’d successfully moved on. In fact, she’d been considerably distracted all week because of it, to the point where it was becoming dangerously close to affecting her work. She’d even had to sit in her car behind the clinic for a few extra minutes on Thursday morning, headphones plugged in and her current go-to relaxation song — “Peace”, off of Taylor Swift’s latest album — playing on repeat, just to clear her mind enough to function properly during her upcoming full day of surgeries. She was fairly confident her clients wouldn’t be too crazy about the idea of their veterinarian daydreaming about walking a little white dog along the Seine, hand-in-hand with his handsome — she presumed, if her childhood recollection was anything to go by — and caring owner, while in reality, she was gripping a scalpel blade in her sterile-gloved hand positioned directly above the shaved abdomen of their beagle lying on its back in the surgery suite.

Thankfully, she’d finally made it to the weekend unscathed, her track record miraculously clear of any glaring medical errors due to preoccupied thoughts, and for that, at least, Anya was grateful.

On Friday evening, after a quick dinner of defrosted leftover chickpea stew, she’d dragged herself out for a walk around her neighborhood, accompanied by a playlist chock-full of mellow folk songs that perfectly complemented the mood established by both her swirling thoughts and the quiet evening atmosphere. It was safe to say that the playlist wasn’t the only thing accompanying her that night, though — she’d been trying all week, fruitlessly, to recreate the sound of Dmitry’s voice in her head, and on Friday she thought she’d come closest to conjuring it correctly.

“I spent the rest of the show just watching this girl and her dog, perfectly in sync. I was mesmerized,” he’d said to her. _How often does he think of that day?_ Anya wondered. At the time, she hadn’t confessed anything to him about the suspected coincidence, probably out of fear of looking foolish, or worse, delusional, if her hunch was incorrect. But now, the more she went back and revisited their conversation in her mind, Anya desperately wished she’d been a little bit more brave in that moment. There was just something about this ~client~ that threw her infuriatingly off her game, again and again.

 _How hard would it have been to just say to him, “Hey Dmitry, you know what’s funny? I went to a dog show in St. Petersburg with my nana’s neighbor when I was a kid, too. You know, the neighbor that literally bred Franzuskaya bolonkas? Yeah, so I think that little girl you saw at the dog show was actually me. Crazy, right?”?_ Anya thought, her infuriation at her Monday morning self having not yet subsided.

It had occurred to Anya in the early hours of Saturday that she actually _did_ have a means of reconnecting with Dmitry. The realization had legitimately woken her up — she technically had access to all of his main contact information, phone number, home address, and email, thanks to the thoroughness of the front desk staff at Petersburg Pet Hospital. Of course, there was a slight ethical wrinkle called ‘client confidentiality’ that was stopping Anya from driving to the clinic right then and there and logging onto their management software. It demanded more willpower than Anya knew she possessed to remain curled up in bed and leave her car keys safely zipped up in her purse.

Anya was aware that it was slightly — okay, more than slightly — ridiculous to be fantasizing about a guy — _A client_ , she once again reminded herself — that she’d only spoken with once and never actually seen face-to-face (at least, not in this decade), but Anya didn’t care. In all her adult years, she’s always sought a genuine human connection over whatever online interaction all those dating apps boasted, and this unexpected bond she felt with a stranger over the phone somehow felt more authentic than anything she could have conjured up in her wildest dreams.

Alas, going on a Saturday afternoon date with someone _not_ named Dmitry was the last thing crossing Anya’s awareness that day. It was only when Maria had abruptly FaceTimed her just before lunch, demanding Anya come over to Maria’s apartment immediately in anticipation of her “big afternoon”, that Anya had even remembered the impending blind date at all.

“This. This will do,” Maria’s voice broke through Anya’s lengthy internal dialogue. How long had she been talking to her without noticing Anya wasn’t responding?

Her sister thrust an olive green knit sweater dress in front of Anya’s nose. “Wear this with those black wooly tights I bought you for Christmas last year, and okay hmm, lemme just find some boots...” Maria’s voice trailed off as she ventured on her hands and knees deeper into her expansive closet.

Anya barely registered her sister’s words. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

Yeah. Distracted was one word for her mental state.

________________________

“Dmitry, my boy, what’s gotten into you lately? You’re more out-of-sorts than my great aunt Olga, and we gave up on her years before she started experimenting with psychedelics in the sixties,” Dmitry’s oldest friend (at 30 years his senior, the sentiment was true in both ways), Vlad, gently chastised him. First a family friend, and then, later, inadvertent guardian, Vlad wore many hats in Dmitry’s life — confidant, advice-giver, co-conspirator, financial supporter, and drinking buddy, to name a few. But, more than anything, he was the only being still alive — well, before Pooka came along — that Dmitry truly loved (but he would never say those words aloud, of course).

Vlad, for his part, could never seem to decide whether to savagely tease or unabashedly champion the younger boy that he’d partially raised, and so would often settle on somewhere in the middle whenever they spent time together.

Today, he was leaning more towards ruthless teasing, Dmitry suspected, which was why he’d already made the decision _not_ to mention anything vet or phone call related to his dear friend.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” he tried to respond as casually as possible, but made the critical error of answering a Vlad inquiry with a ‘nothing’, which was also known to the older man as ‘something really important is on my mind but I would like it if you could just guess and/or ask me about it so that I don’t actually have to be the one to bring it up’.

Vlad pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles back up his nose and peered at Dmitry through the perpetually-smudged lenses, never once averting his gaze. Dmitry knew that if he waited long enough, his friend would lose interest and launch into a new topic of conversation — likely about the woman he’s recently befriended at his ballroom dance class — and they could go back to finishing up Pooka’s walk in peace, but apparently, willpower was not on his side today. He finally caved and turned away from Vlad, breaking both eye contact and his personal vow of silence.

“Okay, okay, so maaayyybbeee I met someone this week...well not actually _met_ , per se, it’s more like I had this really randomly fun conversation with a stranger, a really adorable, feisty, brilliantly clever stranger who knows about St. Petersburg and Pooka’s breed and is way smarter than she gives herself credit for and she’s also genuinely kind and funny and—” As he spoke, Dmitry’s cheeks reddened and he studied the footfall pattern of a leashed Pooka with an unnatural intensity.

“Hold on, back up,” Vlad stopped in his tracks and held out his palm to interrupt Dmitry. “ _She?_ ” His wisened grin was enough to make Dmitry vow to get some new friends. He always felt like he was unintentionally completely transparent in front of Vlad, and Vlad knew it.

“Yes, _she,_ ” Dmitry confessed, feeling trapped.

“And who might this lovely lady be?” Vlad inquired, reaching down to give a shockingly compliant eight-week-old Pooka a pat on the head.

Dmitry coughed. “Ah, well, she might be...Pooka’s vet,” he said sheepishly. Vlad’s eyebrows shot up in recognition.

“This is the vet my Lily recommended, isn’t she?” he pressed. He knew he was right, of course, but Dmitry refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. “Ha! I told you so!” Vlad beamed triumphantly.

Dmitry waved his hand dismissively, desperate to wipe the expression of glee from Vlad’s face. “Be quiet! What do you know about anything?”

________________________

Early October had certainly treated the park near Gleb’s apartment well, Anya had to admit. She fought the urge to pull out her phone and snap a picture every few paces, the fall colors contrasted against the brilliant, cloudless blue sky almost too tempting for her iPhone camera to ignore. She managed to restrain herself, not wanting to be rude and ignore her date, which was a consideration that clearly didn’t extend to the aforementioned date himself, Gleb. The slightly older man with the beginnings of a beard and moustache and dark, perfectly coifed hair glanced down at his iPhone screen practically every time he finished a sentence, thumb mindlessly scrolling while Anya spoke and pretended not to notice. The date had only been going on for less than 45 minutes and Anya was ready to pack it in. It was only her sister’s voice echoing in her ears — “You’re too picky Anya, just give people a chance!” — that prevented her from simply turning on her heel right then and there and making her way towards the nearest train station to head back to the comfort of her own neighborhood.

When Gleb stopped acknowledging her altogether to give his undivided attention to some lengthy email that had just made its presence known on his phone screen, Anya took the opportunity to gaze around the park again, taking in the enormous elms, winding pathways, and brilliantly yellow leaves littering the expanse of dried grass around them. She inhaled a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and silently vowed to come back here at sunset one day with some proper photography equipment. _And better company,_ Anya glared at Gleb. He didn’t notice, still frowning at the tiny screen in his palm while they walked.

They were coming up to the natural end of the park, paved pathways making way for cracked sidewalks covered with flattened cigarette butts and ancient, blackened gum. At the edge of the parking lot, Anya guessed, maybe a hundred feet away, a tall figure opening his car door suddenly caught her eye.

She subtly adjusted the direction of her and Gleb’s walking route so that it would bring the reluctant pair closer to the parked cars, thus allowing Anya to get a better look at the mysterious figure talking animatedly to an older gentleman leaning against a rusting, navy blue Volvo sedan.

Anya’s ears pricked up at the sound of an unmistakable bark coming from the guy’s feet. She squinted in the brightness cast by the late afternoon sun and focused her gaze on the source of the noise — a tiny, fluffy, very _familiar_ white dog. As all the mental pieces finally slid into place, Anya glanced back up to once again study the dog owner’s face and inadvertently locked eyes with him.

_Oh._

________________________

Dmitry couldn’t explain it, but he suddenly perceived a sort of pointed intensity blossom across his skin right at the same time as Pooka’s puppy patience wore out. As the small ball of fluff launched into a fit of disobedience in the middle of the parking lot, Dmitry continued to be overwhelmed by the sensation that can only come from being on the receiving end of another human’s undivided attention. Momentarily leaving the management of Pooka to Vlad, Dmitry looked up and was greeted by an inexplicably familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes trained on him from across the parking lot.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooohh, what’s gonna happen next? Will Anya and Dmitry actually go up to each other and introduce themselves? Will they just continue on with their separate days? Will Gleb finally stop looking at his phone? You (and I) will just have to wait for the next chapter to find out! (I’m basically just motivating myself to keep on writing 😆)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose it’s finally time to devote more than a couple paragraphs to Dmitry’s POV. And who knows, maybe fate will be on his side this chapter and he’ll finally get a chance to talk to Anya again...

_Dmitry ducked his head and scurried around a corner in the arena hallway, narrowly avoiding the intimidating eye of the security guard stationed to the left of the box office. Momentarily out of sight, he paused for a beat to catch his breath and attempt to slow his pounding heart, determined not to stray from his quest to gain entrance into yet another place his unfortunate societal position prohibited him from accessing._

_A little ways down the hallway from where Dmitry was hiding in an alcove stood the partially-obscured entrance to the main arena, also known as the place Dmitry yearned to get to more than anything else in his so far 10 years of life._

_He removed his dirt and grime-stained cap and hastily patted down his unkempt head of hair, before tucking the cap into his battered coat and emerging from his hideaway. He squared his small shoulders, lifted his chin, and set off in the direction of the propped-open double doors. The mix of collective chatter and the occasional bark grew more noticeable which each of Dmitry’s exaggeratedly confident strides._

_Fake it till you make it, right? — it was the mantra of a young conman._

_..._

_The announcer’s tinny voice crackled through the speakers, declaring the event would starting momentarily. Several people in his vicinity visibly startled at the abrupt noise interruption. If Dmitry hadn’t been raised on the very streets these audience members drove through with their noses upturned, maybe he would’ve been caught off guard by a loudspeaker, too._

_Generic chitchat made way for quiet anticipation as the thousands of bodies in the room collectively stilled and focused their attention on the stream of dogs and handlers that had gracefully begun spilling into the centre ring from an archway stationed towards the back of the arena._

_Dmitry stood on his tiptoes and gripped the metal gate, leaning forward as much as was reasonable without being intrusive to the participants in the show displayed before him._

_His unfocused eyes kept darting between every new pair that entered the ring, each one more magical than the next, his gaze never quite knowing what to settle on for fear of missing the next dog and its handler. It was wholly overwhelming in the best possible way, and Dmitry was quietly ecstatic._

_The crowd clapped politely as a tiny white dog was the next to appear in the entranceway. It was jovial and energetic and a beacon of positivity, and it immediately stole Dmitry’s whole heart._

_And then he saw its handler._

_The little white dog was followed closely behind by a petite strawberry blonde girl, a child, really, certainly no older than Dmitry himself in terms of physical features, but it was exceedingly obvious that her poise and maturity already far eclipsed his._

_Dmitry’s eyes widened and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the girl and dog slowly making their way towards him, in sync with the rest of the show. As his new favorite duo approached, it felt like the rest of the arena quietly fell away, and Dmitry was convinced the girl had noticed him, too. She came within a few yards of his spot on the sidelines and seemed to pause for an almost imperceptible moment to smile at him. The dog, for its part, carefully slowed its steps in time with its owner. Frozen in place, Dmitry opened his mouth to say something — anything — to make her remember him, but before he had the chance, the procession continued on and they were gone._

_Dmitry released his grip on gate and shirked away from the centre ring. As he weaved through the throng of unaffected onlookers, heart pounding, and back towards the exit, one thought played over and over in his mind._

_Never had he been so close, and yet simultaneously so far, from everything he ever wanted._

________________________

Twenty years later, in a public park on a later afternoon in October, flanked by his human and canine best friends, Dmitry found himself once again just within reach of something indescribably essential to him. Wordlessly removing Pooka’s red leash from Vlad’s calloused fingers, and never once breaking eye contact with her, Dmitry and his puppy started making their way towards the girl he was now certain had been the same one to enrapture him as a child. He remembered those blue eyes long before he ever had the words to properly articulate what he’d felt in that moment.

He opened his mouth to speak.

________________________

Anya’s heart rose in her chest and her steps slowed until her uninteresting date was already several paces ahead of her.

 _Okay, that’s definitely Pooka_ , Anya thought, still staring in the direction of the parking lot. She gulped. _So does that mean...?_

“Anya!” he suddenly called, looking back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Anya shook her head and tore her gaze away from a fast-approaching Dmitry and Pooka, an unformed question dying on Dmitry’s lips, and plastered a vacant smile on her face to look up at Gleb.

“Yeah, sorry rock in my shoe,” she lied, reaching down to unzip and zip back up Maria’s pleather ankle boot to better sell the fib.

Gleb, to his credit, retreated a few feet and offered out his arm for Anya once she’d straightened back up.

They walked towards the far corner of the park, leaving Dmitry bursting with unspoken sentiments for the second time in his life.

________________________

Seated on his tan fabric coach, Dmitry absentmindedly patted the space beside him in search of his canine companion. His left hand was initially greeted with a warm lick, but then it was followed by a less-than-gentle play bite, Pooka’s needle-prick baby teeth scraping his knuckles. They were going to have to work on that in puppy training, no doubt.

“Ouch! Pooka, no!” Dmitry cried out, in spite of himself. He quickly looked around, embarrassed by his outburst, before remembering that he was alone in his apartment with the canine culprit, free from any potentially judgmental eyes of other dog owners. Thank goodness.

“C’mon little buddy, we’ve been practicing this!” Dmitry pleaded with the five-pound puppy, aware of the desperation in his voice. The 12-week follow-up vaccine appointment for Pooka was only 11 days away (approximately...it’s not like he was counting or anything...), and Dmitry wanted nothing more than to present an impeccably trained puppy to the clinic. He desperately wanted to send a clear message out to the world that he was truly ready for this dog-ownership thing. (It had nothing to do with wanting to make a good first impression on Anya when they finally met in person — absolutely not.)

Seemingly past his piranha tendencies for the time being, an overly-energetic Pooka launchedhimself off the couch and scampered over to his food bowl. Dmitry couldn’t help but notice the faint muddy paw prints left behind on the couch. _We gotta get you cleaned up_ , he thought. The normally white puppy _had_ taken on a notably greyish-tinge ever since they’d explored the dog park together a week after Dmitry’d adopted him.

Dmitry winced at the thought of the park, and the familiar girl he’d just about encountered there. For a brief second that day, Dmitry had managed to convince himself his childhood dream was colliding with his present-day reality, before her boyfriend or husband had managed to interrupt the moment and whisk her away. Dmitry sighed, and absentmindedly picked at the dirt stain beside him with his fingernail.

Suddenly, he had an idea of how to tackle at least one of his present problems.

Pressing both of his palms into the couch cushion on either side of his legs, Dmitry forced himself up into a standing position. He stretched his back — he really should stop making it a habit of falling asleep on the couch while watching a late-night movie — then padded over to the countertop where his phone was charging. It lay beside a handful of abandoned continuing education catalogues he couldn’t yet bring himself to peruse.

 _Shit, it’s Saturday — is the clinic open on the weekend?_ , he thought as he scratched his jaw. Too impatient to go online and check, he tapped on his Contacts app and went down to the ‘M’s’ for “My Vet”, figuring he’d just call and find out. (Of course he had the clinic’s number already saved in his phone — that’s what any responsible pet owner would do, right? It certainly wasn’t at all related to the fact that he’d first connected with Anya via that number...)

The ringing phone startled a daydreaming Dmitry.

“Hi, this is Marfa at Petersburg Pet Hospital, is this an emergency or can you please hold?” asked the voice on the other end. _Yes, it definitely is an emergency_ , Dmitry thought reflexively, his rational brain in a losing battle with his emotional one. He collected himself and then remembered he had yet to answer the receptionist’s simple query.

“Uhh, no, no, sorry, it’s not an emergency. I mean, yeah, yes. Yes I can hold,” he mentally kicked himself for being so inarticulate.

Pooka, sensing his owner’s anxiety, skittered over from the couch into the kitchen and lay down directly on Dmitry’s bare feet. Dmitry’s stress instantly evaporated, and he was once again reminded why he got a dog in the first place.

They stayed like that, motionless, with a napping Pooka warming Dmitry’s toes for a few minutes and Dmitry clutching the phone against his left ear, accompanied by the gratingly generic sound of hold music, until finally a different voice rejoined the other line.

“Hi there, how can I help you?”

________________________

“Anya, you’re not busy, right?” Marfa asked quickly, not bothering to wait for a reply. “Here, phone call for you.” She thrust a green sticky note in Anya’s face with the words “Line 103” scribbled in Marfa’s signature all-caps. The receptionist was out the door of the office before Anya could even ask a single follow-up question for clarification.

Anya shrugged it off, assuming either Marfa was slammed up front at reception and needed to pass a task off to anyone who was even remotely available, or the presumed client on 103 was a pet owner she’d seen earlier in the week who was nowpanicking after reading up about their cat’s symptoms online. “Fuck Dr. Google,” Anya muttered before switching to her ‘vet voice’, as her sister called it, and picking up the phone. She steeled herself for the inevitability of having to go on the defensive on behalf of her profession for the third this this week.

“Hi there, how I can I help you?” Anya delivered her standard vet greeting while simultaneously shuffling around files on her desk in search of a working pen and some scrap paper. Her grumbling stomach reminded her she still hadn’t had a chance to utilize the microwave for her leftover chili.

“Anya?” asked the surprised male voice on the other end. “Uh, I mean, Dr. Romanov?”

Anya’s right hand immediately stopped blindly feeling around her overstuffed desk drawer.

“Dmitry?” she asked, too many questions entering her mind all at once. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Pooka?” She finally settled on a suitable question to be coming from a professional veterinarian currently speaking with a client while using one the phones at her veterinary clinic.

“That girl on the phone — Marfa, I think it was — she told me she was just going to check the shelves for chew toy prices for teething puppies,” Dmitry explained, no less confused about the unexpected reconnection as Anya was. “I just called to ask if you guys could recommend a groomer for Pooka — he’s looking a little mangey, if I’m being honest — and then suddenly she just starting talking about behavior training and chew toys, and then just put me on hold. You guys should really consider getting some more upbeat hold music, by the way.”

“Ha, well, that’s a lovely suggestion, but it’s adorable of you to assume I possess any skills whatsoever beyond those within the veterinary realm,” Anya responded. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about managing the phone lines, let alone customizing the hold music.”

She paused, remembering what Dmitry’d initially mentioned. “And, well, that’s just Marfa for you. I think her brain contains like five separate processing centres all operating at the same time...” she smiled in affection as she thought of her friend. “I couldn’t imagine having anyone else run the front desk around here...” She trailed off.

“So... _do_ you actually have a vet question for me about Pooka?” Anya clarified a beat later, clearing her throat. She silently hoped the answer was yes and that they could keep talking. Glancing at her watch, it read 1:33pm, so she still had just under 30 minutes until her scheduled lunch break was over.

She could sense Dmitry’s apprehensive smile through the other line as he responded. “No,” he admitted reluctantly, before adding hopefully, “But I could! I dunno, what does...what does it mean when a puppy sits on your feet?”

Anya could feel a grin forming on her face without her consent. “Well, _that_ can be _very_ serious,” she tried to make her tone sound unmistakably ominous. Dmitry’s bewildered “What?” let her know she’d succeeded.

“Oh yes, that’s almost _always_ the first indicator that your dog will go on to develop a foot fetish,” she said somberly. “I would probably sleep in socks and shoes from now on, just to be safe.” She barely managed to get through the warning before the facade crumbled and she dissolved into giggles.

“Ha. Verrrryyyy funny, Doctor,” Dmitry tried to respond in as unamused a tone as he could muster, but Anya sensed it wasn’t genuine.

“You’re right, I should take pity on anxious new dog owners gullible enough to think dogs sitting on feet is something more sinister than a charming personality quirk.”

“Well, I guess this is what I get for taking Pooka to a vet that chooses her place of employment based solely on clinic name,” Dmitry teased.

“Hey now, I could say the same thing about you, Mister,” Anya retorted. She settled back into her chair, prepared to duke it out with him for at least a little while longer.

Lunch could wait.

...

________________________

Anya pushed her keyboard away from the edge of her desk and stretched her arms skyward. She dejectedly eyed the stack of patient folders towering in the corner that threatened to topple over if she looked at them the wrong way.

She craned her neck in a comical attempt to listen for signs of life within the clinic walls. Nothing.

Anya had a vague recollection of Marfa bidding her goodnight while silently sliding a Grande PSL with skim milk onto her desk beside her computer, but that must have been at least 40 minutes ago at this point. Sure enough, the delicious, formerly hot beverage was now a decidedly unappetizing lukewarm temperature.

Just about ready to call it quits for the evening, an over-worked Anya eased out of her desk chair and wandered out of the office and to the front of the building. _When did it start snowing?_

It was an occupational hazard, working in a mostly windowless vet clinic — Anya never knew a thing about the outside world during her workday, especially not any of the unexpected weather variations. If the six inches of snow currently piled outside the clinic’s glass front door were any indication, this ignorance had just bitten her in the ass.

 _Okay, yep, it’s time to go home now_ , she decided resolutely. The mountain of remaining paperwork on her desk could wait another 12 hours until she’d be back in the clinic, anyways.

Anya traded her lab coat for her red-and-gold striped windbreaker. She pulled the hood up over her bun and zipped the coat right up to her chin, a feeble attempt to compensate for her woefully inadequate outerwear selection from this morning. At least it was only a few blocks to walk to her car. She dug around in her shoulder bag for the pair of emergency gloves she kept tucked in the inner pocket for situations like this, logged out of her desktop computer, and switched off the office lights.

...

“Fuck!” Anya whisper-hissed to herself, her entire body tense from spending the past 10 minutes battling the sub-zero temperatures on her way to her car.

Upon arriving at her snow-covered Subaru parked on the street outside her favorite coffee shop, her frozen fingers fumbled with the zipper on her —basically useless — windbreaker pocket, and she’d struggled to insert her car key into the lock to open the door, only to be greeted by the knowledge that her car had chosen this exact moment to crap out. She’d tried inhaling a rapid series of short, sharp breaths in an attempt to both prevent her lungs from freezing, and delay her inevitable hysteria at this turn of events.

Now, despite being sheltered from the wind in her parked (albeit lifeless) car, and still donning the thin knit gloves, Anya’s hands continued to cramp from the residual cold. That, and the fact that a dead car battery prevented her from turning on the heat. The mere process of unlocking her phone to order an Uber in lieu of her nonfunctional vehicle proved to be an arduous task.

She finally completed the online carshare request, barely registering anything on her screen other than the indication of a successful transaction, and then wedged the phone between her thigh muscles, figuring she’d want to keep it warm to try and prolong its battery life in the cold. She sat that way, silent and unmoving, for what felt like hours, until finally, a pair of dim headlights caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

Bracing the cold once again, she grit her teeth, opened her car door, and stepped out to greet the tall transportation savior currently exiting his vehicle, a Volvo sedan with a dark exterior that blended seamlessly into the inky blue night sky.

“Hi, Uber for Anastasia?”

Anya blamed the cold for causing her to forget that she’d originally registered the Uber account under her full name.

She smiled graciously up at the stranger in front of her, his features mostly obscured from view by the dark of the night, until the lights from a passing minivan illuminated the two of them, and Anya realized he wasn’t a stranger at all.

“I knew I’d find you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have my older sister to thank for inadvertently giving me the idea have uber driver Dmitry come to the rescue, and I guess also the movie “The Broken Hearts Gallery” for having a similar meet cute premise (great new romcom btw, 10/10 would recommend). I also realized I never gave Dmitry a job at the start of this fic...Don’t properly plan out your characters’ backstories, kids — it’ll leave room for some wickedly useful retconning when you find yourself backed into a narrative corner several thousand words later. 😂


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last! Our intrepid heroes finally meet face-to-face! **insert Hope van Dyne’s “It’s about damn time” gif from the end of Ant-Man here** (This could also apply to the long-ass time it took me to finally finish and post this concluding chapter — I’M SORRY!)

Dmitry hadn’t wanted to become an Uber driver. Transporting people to or from something undoubtedly more exciting than anything he was doing — mainly, driving an Uber — felt far too similar to his days as a poor boy endlessly grasping for what everyone else already had access to.

The idea had come from the depths of Vlad’s mind, the older man hypothesizing that a job driving people around would help Dmitry finally become better acquainted with the city and expand the usual three-block radius of his apartment, Vlad’s townhouse, the grocery store, and the neighborhood park. Dmitry had only agreed to the suggestion after he’d received a fateful email from a dog breeder located a mere six-hour roundtrip away, cementing the final step that would transform Dmitry’s long-fantasized puppy dream into a reality. If he was going to have his own dog, he really needed an additional income to help pay for it.

Now, over three months later and countless late-night, traffic-riddled trips through the heart of downtown to the suburbs and back, Dmitry mentally sent a quick prayer of gratitude to his bespectacled friend for the initial unsolicited job encouragement. It was all worth it, because standing right in front of him now, cheeks pink from the unrelenting wind, dark blonde hair mostly tucked under a thin red windbreaker hood, and blue eyes widened in what Dmitry could only assume was a mixture of resounding excitement and unbridled joy (since he was pretty sure they were just reflecting back his own expression), was her. The girl from the dog show. The girl from the dog park. And now, the girl who—

“I knew I’d find you again!” A bashful smile accompanied this girl’s paradigm-shifting nighttime revelation.

Her words expanded to fill the frigid air between them, and she and Dmitry both stood frozen in place while they simultaneously contemplated the significance of this unexpected reunion. Dmitry was searching for something, anything to say in response to her that would effectively summarize the past 20 years of his life — he couldn’t let himself squander this moment for the third time, it would simply be too painful to recover from — before his brain eventually caught up to the fact that it was not only her face, but also her voice, that was inexplicably familiar to him. How?

“I’m honestly surprised Pooka doesn’t accompany you on your Uber trips. I feel like he’d be a massive hit with those cranky customers that always feel the need to blame you for the shitty traffic,” she commented out of the blue, her head slightly tilted to the right, awaiting his response.

“Wait, Anya?” Dmitry shook his head, then rubbed his gloved fists against his eyes, as if the cliched gestures would somehow help clarify the conflicting details swirling in his brain. “ _Anya_ Anya?”

Anya’s eyes glittered as her face lit up with a teasing grin, and all at once, Dmitry just knew that she’d been making this exact same expression at several points during their previous phone calls.

“Well no, not Anya Anya, that’d just be some pretty cruel naming on my parents’ behalf,” she smirked, clearly enjoying herself. Dmitry’s expression mirrored her amusement as she continued on, “But oh, wait, do you mean Dr. Anya Romanov?” She feigned innocence, as if she’d only just understood what he’d asked, then curtsied slightly. “Then yes, I am she.”

Dmitry shook his head, a little “huh” escaping from his lips involuntarily as he continued to marvel at the evening’s turn of events. “You know...this is uh, this is gonna sound a little strange, but hear me out...” he started, but Anya jumped in before Dmitry had a chance to unveil his theory.

“Petersburg Pedigree Pet Parade, 19 years ago, right?”

________________________

“Wait, you knew?” Dmitry gaped down at Anya, eyes visibly widening in disbelief in the dim light. “When did you figure it out?...And, wait, why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”

Anya shrugged, then self-consciously tugged at her hood. It was as if all her former bravado had vanished along with her most recent icy breath, and her original self-doubt about the whole coincidence had settled comfortably in its place.

“I dunno, I guess I didn’t want to just veer the conversation away from what should technically have been a professional chat about your new puppy and throw out this totally ludicrous, professional ethical barrier-breaching theory that, hmm, I dunno, maybe I actually DO know who you are, charming and probably cute stranger I’m chatting way too flirtatiously with on the phone while I’m on the clock, plus you’re my client and how would THAT look if I were to just, like, hit on you when all you wanted was some vet advice, which would actually make sense since that’s literally what you were contributing to my salary for and also I didn’t know for sure if I was even recalling that day at the parade correctly since there’s always that risk of the whole implanted memory thing and I didn’t want to—”

Her endless, rambling tirade to Dmitry was once again interrupted, but this time it was Dmitry’s lips, not Anya’s own self-awareness, that effectively stemmed the flow of words escaping from her mouth.

There was a half of Anya’s brain that had spent four years in veterinary school and inherently understood the physiology — thanks, sympathetic nervous system — behind a moment like this of unexpected excitement, but the other, more romantic half, the one that experienced her instantaneous spike in heart rate, disappearance of sensation anywhere but her lips and fingers, and unrelenting squeeze deep in her chest, chalked it all up to pure, unadulterated love — probably. (It was ridiculously premature of her to think, of course, but Anya reasoned their two decades of shared anticipation was justification enough for her present-day feelings.)

Anya could feel Dmitry grin against her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his back, gripping his shoulders as they continued their unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, nighttime kiss.

Finally, they broke apart ever so slightly, Dmitry reaching behind her to gently pull Anya’s now-displaced windbreaker hood back over her blonde tendrils.

“Wouldn’t want my vet to call in sick to work,” he whispered, his lips moving against her pale forehead.

“You know, Dima, being out in cold weather is not actually how a cold gets transmitted...” Anya started to point out, but Dmitry just chuckled and moved his face down for another kiss.

“Then let’s get going — after all, I owe you a ride.”

...

________________________

It may have been Anya’s first time in his apartment — her first of many, Dmitry hoped/planned — but if she felt any qualms about being in someone else’s home, he wouldn’t have known from the way she immediately made herself comfortable in his modest 400-sqft space. Before Dmitry had even unzipped his jacket and flicked on the light switch, Anya had deposited her shoulder bag on the floor in the front entrance, kicked off her winter boots, planted an exuberant kiss on an equally excited Pooka greeting the pair at the front entrance, and taken off to explore her surroundings.

“Oh my god, I’m starving and I totally forgot to pack extra snacks to get me through my record writing at work today,” Anya exclaimed as she beelined to the fridge glowing in the still-dark apartment. She pivoted back around to face him as Dmitry flooded the kitchen with light. “What have you got?”

Dmitry just chuckled as he considered his current situation — who was he to deny this amazing girl in front of him anything? He may not have much, but he figured he could at least start with an offering of some cereal for dinner.

“You may or may not have re-entered my life at the tail-end of my groceries,” Dmitry admitted. “But I _do_ have an admirable supply of breakfast cereal.”

Anya didn’t miss a beat. “What are the chances this is the normal state of your food supply and you’re just using our fated reconnection as a convenient scapegoat for your own usual disorganization?” She said this with a laugh while her back was turned, already rooting around in his cupboards for the aforementioned boxes of cereal.

Dmitry just stared at her. _How did I get so lucky?_

He hadn’t realized he’d said his thought out loud until Anya, now on her knees on his countertop in order to reach a box of Froot Loops perched on an upper shelf,responded, “Well I guess you have whatever computer algorithm that helped you discover my vet clinic to thank.”

Dmitry hurried over to spot her as she continued to root around in his cupboard — what kind of impression would it leave if she were to accidentally tumble off his counter on their very first hour together face-to-face?

“True. Although actually, it was my friend Vlad who reassured me that it wasn’t a completely stupid idea to pick a vet for Pooka based purely on name recognition. He’s sorta kinda seeing a woman who works there and could vouch for it, so I guess he can have some of the credit — but never tell him I said that.” At the sound of his name, Pooka came scampering over to settle on Dmitry’s feet, which had since become something of a habit for the puppy.

Anya hopped down from the counter, clutching two boxes of sugary cereal under her left arm. She turned to face Dmitry. “Wait, he’s dating someone at my work? Who?” Dmitry was about to open his mouth to answer when it suddenly dawned on Anya. “Holy shit, is it Lily? _Your friend_ is her mystery man?” Her eyes flashed with glee. “I fucking KNEW it. Oh my god, I can’t wait to get to work tomorrow!”

Dmitry pretended to pout. “Well if that’s the case, maybe I should just take you home now...”

“What, and leave all the cereal behind for you to devour by yourself? Absolutely not!” She playfully shoved his shoulder as she walked over to the fridge to grab some milk.

Bowls filled and milk poured, they carried their impromptu dinners the few steps into the modest living room — if you could even call it that — and settled on the couch, Anya cross-legged and clutching her bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch close to her chest, and Dmitry sitting with his serving of Froot Loops balanced precariously on his lap and Pooka snuggled between them. They stayed like that for a moment, just eating their cereal in frenzied silence.

“Hey,” Anya said quietly, gently nudging Dmitry with her knee so as not to disturb his overfilled bowl or his sleeping puppy. “Is this our first meal together?”

“First of many,” Dmitry promised. Hands steadying his bowl, he leaned forward to softly kiss her lips.

Anya believed him.

...

________________________

“Good morning Lily!” Anya chirped, the chimes twinkling as the front door swung shut behind her.

“Good morning, Dr. Romanov!” her clinic manager replied, briefly pausing whatever computer task was previously commanding her attention to glance up and smile as Anya walked into the cozy vet clinic, but her smile quickly disappeared and was replaced with a look of befuddlement. “Who’s this?”

Dmitry, who’d accompanied Anya to the clinic that morning, kept his left arm around her shoulders and removed his right hand from his front pocket to reach out and shake Lily’s hand. “I’m Dmitry — you might remember my dog Pooka?”

“I believe you two have a _friend_ in common,” Anya said pointedly, before Lily could call her out for getting familiar with a client. “He goes by the name Vlad.” Judging by the blush now coloring Lily’s cheeks, Anya knew she’d finally achieved payback on her colleague from the day she’d first talked to Dmitry.

Just then, Marfa rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks at the sight before her, taking in Lily’s embarrassment, Anya’s smug satisfaction, and, well, just Dmitry in general. “Wait, what did I miss? I went to the back for like three seconds!”

Dmitry and Anya exchanged a knowing look.

“Aaaannndddd, that’s my cue!” Dmitry declared loudly, making a show of turning to leave. “Anya, just text me when you finish your records or are about to fall asleep on your keyboard — whichever comes first.”

Anya smiled graciously at him. “How about I call you from the clinic phone — for old time’s sake?” Dmitry winked on his way out the front door, the chimes accompanying his departure.

Without saying another word to her bewildered coworkers, Anya made her way to her office, feeling lighter than she had in years. As she set down her shoulder bag and pulled her travel mug of coffee from its side pocket, she glanced up at the rich red wood of her degree frame hanging on the wall above her desk.

_Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova_

_Doctor of Veterinary Medicine_

She had half a mind to incorporate a ride from Dmitry into her morning routine...

A text from Maria greeted her on the screen when she sat down to unlock her phone:

Hey so did you ever see Gleb again? You never mentioned anything... 🧐

Rather than groan, this time Anya couldn’t help but let out a giddy laugh at just how far off-base her well-meaning sister was. She was about to slide her phone back into her back pocket, then thought better of it and reopened the conversation with Maria.

Boy do we have a LOT of catching up to do... 😉

FaceTime later tonight after I’m done work?

Anya briefly wondered if she should hold off introducing Dmitry to her sister — or any member of the crazy Romanov clan, to be honest — at least for a little bit, but then remembered that this guy wasn’t going anywhere, at least if she had anything to say about it. She fired off one final text to Maria.

It’s quite the story, let me tell you. It all started with a parade in June...

She left it at that. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnddd, that’s that! Thank you so much for sticking around for this (loosely) pseudo-autobiographical/Dimya fangirl/romcom trope-filled adventure that’s made me grin like an idiot more times than I should probably admit while writing it. This has been my first foray into fiction since honestly probably early high school (I think I was always massively intimidated by the prospect of world-building and spending time with characters that didn’t already exist in the real world) and I had such a great time crafting this little story and, more importantly, actually sharing with other people. I truly love this community! 💗 P.s. maybe I’ll write an epilogue?


End file.
